


SPN TWD SMASH (awaiting a better title)

by VODLIX



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, BAMF Dean Winchester, Crossover, Dean Winchester is Ben Braeden's Parent, F/M, Gen, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Survivalist Dean Winchester, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VODLIX/pseuds/VODLIX
Summary: As Lucifer warned, the apocalypse happens. Sadly, this even takes place regardless of Lucifer's caged ass and now Dean and Ben are challenged to survive America and its zombie land sans Lisa or sam.To add to that: no rest for the wicked when it comes to mental health, conflict and power struggles, especially when the two winchesters (read tags) join up with the TWD group in Georgia.//UNFINISHED & ABANDONED (sorry)//





	SPN TWD SMASH (awaiting a better title)

Dean had, for the longest time, gotten by. Not lived, not breathed or relaxed. He did what he could so that Ben could live. It had been weeks since he’d pitched tent at a gas station, having enough supplies that he’d had to trade the impala out for a pick up truck with enough food, ammo and med supplies to last them through a couple seasons.  
He’d been planning to ride out till he found a group, but he knew their luck was thin after chaos hit. Every city became a war zone and those who weren’t in the cities were told to evacuate there, unprepared for a massacre. But, being a Winchester, he was still hopeful that there were groups.

 

Daryl had been scouring the forests around the quarry ever since merle decided to drop in on the group, providing food to gain trust. He’d been searching the floor for scratches and indents when the melodic sound of humming and footfalls reached his ears.  
Instantly, Daryl hid, trying to find the origin of such a bold noise in the quite of the forest.  
“s’ry” a young voice sounded, appearing from the shrubbery. He was a short boy wearing a grey hoodie over a plaid shirt along with ripped jeans and a silenced submachine gun slung lazily over the boy’s shoulder, a knife held loosely in his grip.  
A short gruff sound came from a man following him, giving off a note of disapproval. The man wore a leather jacket and plaid with a duffle over his shoulder. In hand was an old hand-me-down revolver (fashioning weather marks and carved sigils) and a funny-looking silver blade. He held himself with the type of look daryl had only seen once, when merle returned from the army with dishonourable discharge: a look of hard grief and a survivor’s rebellion in his eyes. 

Daryl had, quite rightly, taken the choice to track them for a bit. to make sure they don’t wander to the quarry and, hopefully, see them off. But then, on the other hand, Shane had been bitching about more hands on deck before Carol slapped the gun from his hands with an indignant squawk.  
The two had drifted downhill, the boy guard duty while the man focussed more on the floor, presumably following tracks. from what Daryl could tell, the man was a seasoned hunter, but lacked the expertise to realise the tracks were old. He’d been following them down a dear trail for about 20 minutes when the man had broken off into a sprint, leaving the boy the stumbling onwards by himself after a rushed hand motion and a chortled whistle.  
With hesitation, Daryl decided to stick to the kid, because while the man could look after himself, if the kid got lost he didn’t want partial responsibility.  
Suddenly, the sound of a gun being cocked sounded from behind Daryl and he spun around to face the previous man, Emerald eyes cold and unrelenting. Daryl, too, noticed that the boy had swivelled and aimed at him as well, likely planned.  
“Stand down.” The man’s voice was hard and worn, and now that Daryl could see the man clearer he was captivated by short blonde hair and freckled cheekbones.  
“Don’t want’a start nothin’, just huntin’. same ’s you and yer boy.” Daryl defended, slowly laying down his crossbow and the obvious knife at his hip.  
“Oh, shut the heck up.” the kid came from Daryl’s side, gun raised and once bored expression now focussed and radiating distrust. His back hair was slick and he looked half out of it, but determined. His stance was wide and off and his arms trembled with the weight of keeping himself up.  
“Your name. You with a group?” The boy questioned plainly. His father(?) lent down to frisk daryl, adding to the pile of weapons, and the boy took that as a sign to tighten his grip on his weapon and aim.  
“yeah, Daryl Dixon. Look, we can help yer’ boy.” Daryl answered the boy, now addressing the 6”something securing a lock pick from his boot.  
“why should we trust you at all.” The boy hissed, gesturing with his gun before receiving a warning look from the elder for his action, stilling his hands. The blond had spin Daryl around, zip locking his hands together and gestured for his son’s bag to put the weapon-pile in.  
“we ain’t mil'tary, we’re civilian group. Leader 's some dickwad called Shane. He’s b'n lookin' for survivors. We’ve got meds an' food. 'nough for yer son.” Daryl tried, noticing they didn’t care much for what he had to say, “you soun' like you’re from north, they’ve got a workin' radio and equipment. leader 's a cop and we’ve got children, too.”  
The man had looked up at that, brows furrowed, “Names?” the man had asked, voice gruff and as worn as it was the first time, and his lack of previous conversation was proof that he didn’t talk much.  
“Kid’s are Sofia and Carl, both 12 years old.”  
The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief as the man's eyes lit up with that righteous ambition “Name’s Dean and Ben Braeden”

 

Daryl rubbed his raw wrists on the way back to camp, the two following attent behind. The two, Dean and Ben, had given him back his gear.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't really figure out how to write Daryl's speech--any ideas?  
> other than that, this is complete and utter drafting, so if anyone wants more, pose any ideas?


End file.
